


Of Pineapples and Soul Reapers

by Arya_Silvertongue



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bleach AU, F/M, Human Steve McGarrett, M/M, McDanno as IchiRuki, Slow Burn, Soul Reaper Danny Williams
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-22 20:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17066174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Silvertongue/pseuds/Arya_Silvertongue
Summary: Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett has always been able to see ghosts, but this ability doesn’t change his life nearly as much as meeting Danny, the Soul Reaper who saves him the night he was so sure he’d die for his sister.After absorbing half of Danny’s spiritual energy, Steve becomes the first ever Substitute Soul Reaper. His new job? Protect the island of Oahu from evil spirits and other supernatural creatures who just can’t stay dead.(A McDanno Bleach AU)





	1. Chapter 1

The wind carries an uncharacteristic chill, and Steve knows if closes his eyes, he'd swear he is nowhere near Hawaii. It certainly doesn’t feel like home. Not anymore.

“Hey.”

He feels a gentle pressure on his right bicep, but when he turns, his eyes don’t land on Catherine Rollins. Instead, they go over her shoulder, about ten yards from where they’re standing. Across the cemetery grounds, beneath the lone rain tree, is a little girl too pale for the Hawaiian sun. Even for a haole.

It takes three blinks for her torn, yellow sundress and mud-caked hair to flicker out of his sight.

“Steve?” Cath’s voice no longer grounds him like it used to, but it still snaps him back to the present. He waits for his heart to settle, and when it does, the sun shifts out from behind a cloud and the rest of the dirt is piled up. “You okay?”

John McGarrett is officially dead.

It’s not like Steve hadn’t known the moment his father’s frantic and unexpected phone call ended that fateful night, followed by a voicemail from his sister the morning after. The fresh grave just made it tangible, that’s all.

Concrete. Final.

He gives Catherine what he hopes is a convincing smile, before making his way to the truck where he knows Mary is waiting for him.

“Took you long enough,” his sister grumbles, her voice devoid of the usual warmth it almost always has, even when she’s reading him for filth.

Steve looks out the windshield and nods at Catherine one last time, before turning the ignition and heading for the empty house, the only thing he and Mary have left of their estranged father.

 

\---

 

Danny ignores what would be the third worried look Kono’s shot his way for the past minute. He knows she means well, but the kid is sometimes too perceptive for her own good.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along?” she asks for the fifth time that night. “I promise I won’t get in the way. I won’t even drop by the shop, if you want. I’ll _behave_.”

It takes half his strength to stop himself from rolling his eyes, knowing full well that would most certainly not be the case. Danny’s 3rd Seat Officer is a troublemaker, through and through. Still, a fond smile escapes his lips. Kono’s stubborn determination reminds him of himself, sometimes. The Danny from centuries ago.

Before everything went to shit.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he assures her, also for the fifth time in their entire conversation. “I told you. Max said there might not even be any Hollow sightings tonight. Just a routine patrol, no sweat. I just wanted to—”

“—check up on her, yeah. I get it, boss.”

He hesitates for a moment, before raising a hand to ruffle her hair. It’s not appropriate, but Central 46 can take a hike.

“You’ll be fine.” He shoots her a knowing look, which makes her beam. “Besides, I need to make sure someone stays behind to give the Captain a hard time, right?”

He winks at her before turning to face the gate. When he steps through it, all thoughts of mischief are replaced with nothing but Grace’s smile.

The peace lasts for about three seconds.                                                                    

Danny immediately scowls when realizes that he’s stepped right into a moonlit beach. Not for the first time, he despairs at the fact that his daughter just had to be reincarnated in Hawaii, of all places.

“Great. Just great.”

He gives the waves one last sneer before he flash steps away, preferably into somewhere with concrete pavement.

A few moments later, he ends up on top of a telephone pole at the end of Makalena St. It’s one of those quiet, upscale neighborhoods where no one so much as stirs past midnight. He can still smell the sea, but it no longer irritates him, because inside one of the houses, he knows his little girl is fast asleep.

Stanley Edwards. Real Estate Developer.

In her third incarnation, Danny’s daughter was born into an American family in Las Vegas. He might have pulled a few strings and broke about 23 and half laws to make sure she’s named Grace, but Danny couldn’t care less. There could never be any other name.

After a few years, they moved to Oahu when Mrs. Edwards died in a car accident, and Danny realized intervening may not have been the best course of action. Now he keeps himself to watching her from afar. His request for his Human World Patrols to be in Hawaii had been approved roughly a year ago, and he has managed to keep his distance ever since. It’s an impressive test to his self-control, but his daughter — even just a version of her, with the same eyes but a different smile — has always been the most effective motivation to keep him in line.

He was preparing to flash step to her balcony when he feels it.

“ _Shit._ ” He’s halfway to the location when his watch beeps, confirming what he already sensed.

It’s a standard Gillian, barely enough spiritual energy to overpower a group of academy freshmen. The bastard is probably circling a few unsuspecting victims. He remembers his Captain mentioning an increase of Earth-bound spirits in the last few months, which meant they had to deal with a whole lot more Menos Grande than Danny has the patience for.

He reaches Piikoi St. in record time, and takes a deep breath.

There’s one other thing. Something faint, pulsing at back of his consciousness. It's still subtle, but steadily growing by the minute.

He pushes the thought away before flash stepping to a get a better vantage point.

 

\---

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

He’s in the middle of clearing the table when he heard Mary sigh and stand up. By the time he turns around, his sister already has her bag on her hand.

“Out,” Mary says, barely sparing him a glance. “I’ll go crazy if I stay here.”

“Like _hell_ you are.”

He doesn’t mean to sound as angry as he does, but the memory of his father’s dying words still echo in his brain and the thought of Mary wandering the streets of Oahu at night the same day they buried their murdered father has something like dread settle in his guts. Before he realizes it, he’s got her arm on a tight grip.

“Wha— let me _go_ , you idiot!”

She shakes him off easily, partly because the bout of aggression surprises him so much he can only stand frozen in his spot, looking at his hands like they’ve betrayed him. Mary must’ve seen something on his face, because she deflates and drops her bag on the table.

“Look at us,” she mutters, leaning on the couch like she needs the support to stay upright. Steve looks at the dark circles under her eyes, and thinks maybe she just might. “Some family.”

The anger returns and lodges itself back up his throat.

“Yeah. _Some_ family.” It’s not really Mary he’s mad at, but his sister is all he sees and anger has always been easier to handle than the brewing mix of sorrow, fury, and _fear_ that threatens to tip him over the edge. Grief is strange like that. “I mean— what kind of daughter goes to her father’s funeral high as kite, right?”

Mary’s green eyes, very much like his own, light up in her own anger.

“Oh that’s just _rich_ coming from you!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She scoffs. “It _means_ we both have our own ways of dealing with shit! While Lieutenant Commander _Perfect Son_ goes around ignoring things and shoving his crap under the carpet, I have to keep myself sane best I can, especially since my own big brother threw me under the bus years ago!”

Steve closes his eyes, willing his breath to stay even. He knows what she’s referring to. It’s how he lost her, after all, even before their father sent them away.

“Mary—”

“No. We’ve pushed this away long enough. Now that dad’s dead, we might as well, right?” She starts pacing the length of the kitchen, like a caged tiger. “I take drugs to _cope_ with all the kinds of shit I see. Yeah, I still see them. Always have. And so do you, as a matter of fact. Only difference is, you’ve _convinced_ yourself you don’t. Denied it to kingdom come.” His sister is so mad, she’s shaking, and the bitter taste in Steve’s mouth feels an awful lot like shame. “So don’t you _dare_ stand there all high and mighty accusing _me_ of being a shitty kid for something only I am brave enough to admit!”

His next words are familiar, almost like a déjà vu, but it’s so ingrained in him it might as well be an instinct. “I... I don’t —”

“Don’t _what_ , Steve! See ghosts? Yeah, right. Coz that obviously-living child behind you is totally here for me.”

His blood turns cold, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before he turns to where Mary is pointing at. Sure enough, the little girl in a yellow dress is standing on a corner of their kitchen, watching Steve with sullen eyes.

The headache that accompanies every attempt to block them out blindsides him, and his hand shoots up to his temple before he can stop it.

“Shit,” he hears Mary mutter, her hands carefully guiding him to a sitting position. It takes a moment before he realizes she’s also addressing the ghost in their house. “— sorry, but…you’re gonna have to— we need you to go away. Please. I’m sorry.”

It’s the voice she always had when dealing with skittish animals, or every time he catches her talking to what he’s always told himself was just thin air. Imaginary friends are normal, he used to tell himself, and Mary has always had an overactive mind.

 _Tell him, Steve!_ she cried to him, all those years ago. _Tell dad you see them too! I know you do!_

He remembers exactly what he told their dad then, and Steve knows all too well that feeling guilty about it doesn’t change everything that’s happened after.

“Here.”

He is ripped from his thoughts when Mary shoves a glass of water on his hands. It’s only then that he notices, through the swishing of the clear liquid, that he is trembling.

“Navy SEAL my _ass_ ,” he hears Mary grumble. Beneath her obvious frustration, Steve catches a hint of affection, and he latches on to it to with greed.

“I’ll stay here for the night. Someone has to make sure you don’t go _pupule_ , after all.”

Steve waits for her to climb upstairs before he releases the breath he is very much aware he was holding.  He then looks at his hands, no longer trembling but still too foreign. He needs to get a grip before he completely loses it.

_That obviously-living child behind you is totally here for me._

He turns to look outside, by the lanai, and sees the same ghost girl. This time, she has her back to him, looking at the sea with what he thinks is the same longing he’s always seen in the eyes of the dead tethered to the world of the living.

 _They’re mostly harmless_ , Lt. Freddie Hart had once told him, when the fellow SEAL realized Steve, too, can see spirits. But unlike Steve, Freddie embraced the ability, would even go out of his way to help the occasional lost soul they encounter during missions. It used to irritate Steve, how comfortable and _at peace_ Freddie was with the whole situation. Now he just thinks his friend is a whole lot braver than he is. _No one wants to be stuck in limbo forever, after all. They just need a guide._

He forces himself to stand before he can change his mind. But as he prepares to cross the threshold, Steve is hit with a strong pressure that, had he not planted his feet, would’ve landed him on his ass.

It came from the garage, and his feet are already moving before he can stop himself.

_They’re mostly harmless._

Bullshit.

The man standing on top of his father’s old Marquis, wearing a ridiculous, black coat, is far from harmless. And definitely not human.

His gun is up and pointed at the phantom stranger before he can think about it.

“Who are you!”

 

\---

 

Danny gives his watch one last tap. When nothing happens, he gives up and resorts to scanning his surroundings instead.

The longer he stays in the neighborhood, the fainter the Hollow signal becomes. When he stopped at one of the houses, his Soul Watch just about shut down, and the scratching at the back of his mind, the part that has been telling him _something’s wrong_ for the better part of his midnight stroll, had reached maximum frequency.

“Who are you!”

A mere few seconds after he enters the garage of the aforementioned house, Danny is already staring at the barrel of a gun. He fights the urge to roll his eyes when he sees that, behind the trigger, stands a six-foot-something boy scout, who apparently has no trouble seeing him.

“I said, _identify yourself!_ ”

He floats down from his place on the roof of the car. If the move turned out much slower than usual, well, Danny can’t be blamed. The twitch on the human’s left eye was almost enough to get a smirk out of him. Almost.

Before he can say anything, however, a sudden burst of spiritual energy pulsed at the edge of his mind's eye, and Danny cocked his head to sense more.

“It’s getting closer. I feel it.”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say, because the human trains his gun right at Danny’s chest, as though the change of aim is going to make him more likely to respond to him. The move, amazingly, raises Danny’s hackles, and he keeps eye contact as he flicks the weapon with his right hand.

Suffice to say, the result surprises them both.

What Danny expected to be a petty display of you-can’t-touch-me-much-less-shoot-me-because-I’m-not-even-tanglible is flipped on its head when, instead of his hand phasing through the gun, it interacts with the other man’s hand, sending the gun flying against a wall and the human staggering a few steps back.

The other man seems quick enough to recover, as he now has another weapon aimed at him. This time, however, he seems more unsure of himself.

Danny’s just taking a few extra seconds to deal.

“What— what the hell are you!”

Danny is tempted to ask the very same thing.

Granted, some humans have strong enough spiritual energy to see souls. Some— like the man in front of him now —are even capable of seeing Soul Reapers and the occasional Menos Grande. There’s a reason why many of their cultures are rich with dark and often misinterpreted versions of his world.

But never, in Danny’s stint patrolling the human world, has he ever encountered a mortal who can _touch_ a reaper in soul form.

Part of him wishes he should’ve just taken Kono up on her offer to patrol with him.

“Look,” he begins, reeling his infamous temper in. The man’s eyes are wild, and Danny’s knows wild eyes. They’re a step closer to crazy town. But beneath the obvious reluctance to believe the shit happening right in front of him, Danny can see something else. There’s control, curiosity, and the faintest hint of relief.

It’s what he’s gonna tell himself when he inevitably regrets what he’s about to do.

“Look,” he repeats, one last effort to stop himself. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work. “You wanna know? You _really_ wanna know? Fine. I’ll tell you. But first, put that thing down before you hurt yourself.”

It may have come out a little more condescending than he intended, but he doesn’t take it back. The guy’s trigger-happy, Danny can tell.

“I’m not putting my gun down.”

This time, Danny doesn’t even stop himself from opening his mouth in disbelief. Man’s got guts, he’ll give him that.

“Yes, you are. Since you and I both know it can’t hurt me, I really don’t see the point of you exhausting yourself.”

There’s another twitch, this time on the guy’s other eye, and Danny knows he’s trying his very best not to scowl. He also knows that it’s most probably in lieu of scoffing at what he just implied. The man looks military, and Danny is completely aware he can hold his position for hours, even days. Doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy riling him up.

Still, he keeps on ear open to other possible pulses. It’s been almost an hour since his first signal, and silence after Hollow sightings is never a good sign.

“I can touch you,” the human says, finally lowering his firearm. “Therefore, I can hurt you.”

Danny realizes further arguing is a colossal waste of time, so he throws both his hands up in the air, in a gesture that is interpreted as a surrender in both the human world and in soul society. The guy, clearly on the stubborn and proud side of the human spectrum, straightens considerably when he does. Danny figures his pride can take it. After all, he is simply relinquishing the victory of the verbal match; he can take out the mortal in a physical battle anytime, even when he looks more formidable than the others of his kind.

“I’m Vice Captain Daniel Williams,” he finally says, the mark on his arm burning at the declaration. Like always, the practiced introduction still leaves a funny taste in his mouth. As though it just doesn’t quite fit right. Danny elects to shrug it off. There are more important things. “And I’m a Soul Reaper.”

There. He said it.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The leather trench coat is starting to get on Steve’s nerves.

What most people don’t know about a decade and a half of military training and combat experience, is that it’s not a flip you get to switch on and off, depending on the situation. You are not less likely to reach for your gun when there’s an explosion if you’re with friends and family, than when you’re riding on a convoy of a foreign delegate. Calculating the best way to take down a full-grown adult without lethal force is done both on cops who hit on your sister, and blond strangers in stupid jackets floating in your father’s garage.

“I’m a Soul Reaper.”

Still, something inside Steve shuts down, and he knows it’s a little unfair to blame it all on the sharp and bright eyes gazing at him with nothing but utter sincerity.

He wonders how long he stares before he hears a faint, “ _Soul Reaper_ ,” and realizes it came from his own lips a moment too late. The words roll off his tongue more smoothly than he expected, and Steve doesn’t know whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

“Yes,” the stranger tells him, calm and at ease despite having had a gun pointed at him mere moments ago, “That’s me.”

Cornflower blue.

Steve dated a painter about a year before he earned his trident, and she was in the middle of mastering the human eye. They’re the key to a good portrait, she once told him. The eyes always hold the answer. Any good sailor worth his salt can tell you that body language, voice modulation, even preference in weapon, are better ways of assessing someone, but he wisely decided against telling her just that. She’d call the guy’s eyes cornflower blue, though, and Steve thinks he’d be inclined to agree.

It’s takes a while for Steve to realize he’s been staring; hence, not saying anything in response. Those same blue eyes flicker with… _something_ , the way it did when his first gun was knocked off his hand, and Steve forces himself to straighten, his hold on the spare Glock tightening ever so slightly.

“I’m Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett,” he tells the bright-eyed phantom, almost flinching at how self-conscious he suddenly feels, “And you’re in my father’s garage. Why?” He throws in the last part in an effort to regain control, and to hopefully remind himself of the task at hand, which in this case is to find out exactly what he’s dealing with.

It doesn’t help him one bit when the stranger just blinks.

“That’s it?” he asks, sounding genuinely surprised. “That’s your only question?”

Of course not, Steve wants to tell him. He wants to know how he knew the precise moment someone got inside the house, and where he’d find them. He wants to ask the guy how he managed to disarm him when the last time that happened, Steve was a recruit in way over his head and Commander White wanted to teach him a lesson. It also wouldn’t hurt to be clued in to exactly what makes him think leather, wingtips, and a necktie constitute a proper Hawaiian attire.

Moreover, Steve wants to understand how Vice Captain Daniel Williams can stand in a dark garage, with moonlight streaming from a small window, and not cast any shadow.

But all these questions sound stupid, even for Steve, so he resorts to the things he can grasp. He understands trespassing, so it’s what he decides to lead with. For now.

“You’re in someone else’s house, without permission. I’m sure even… _soul reapers_ like you know that’s illegal.” Frankly, Steve's not sure what soul reapers do and do not know, and whether or not the guy even _understands_ the American legal system.

“Trespassing is not exclusive to American laws,” Williams replies after a beat, and for a wild moment, Steve thinks the stranger’s reading his mind. It takes one look at his still very blue eyes to realize he is, in fact, not telepathic. Just responding like he’s reading something out of a guidebook, barely suppressing the ‘ _you dummy’_   Steve has a feeling he wished to add. It’s going to be unwarranted, though. Steve reads. At least, enough to know that trespassing is, indeed, not exclusive to the United States Code. “I’m just wondering why you don’t seem to think I’m lying about…you know, the whole ‘Soul Reaper’ thing.”

For the first time since he stepped inside the garage, Steve lets himself look at the guy properly.

Someone lying almost always doesn’t risk asking their interrogator a second time, after their story is sold. They also don’t tend to sound more bothered by the incredulity of their lie than the person they’re lying to. Also, liars don’t stand the way Daniel Williams stands. Like telling Steve a piece of outrageous information is an act of decency, like he’s doing _him_ a favor.

“No,” Steve tells him instead, “I don’t think you’re lying.”

What he doesn’t add, however, is while Steve knows Williams is not lying, he also knows he’s telling the truth. He feels it in the minute changes his own body has undergone in the past few minutes. His muscles started to relax, and it’s suddenly a whole lot easier to breath. It feels an awful lot like relief, and Steve is not entirely sure why.

Williams catches his gaze, and Steve somehow knows he’s bound to find out.

“Fine,” the guy mutters, like he’s lost a silent battle with his better judgment, “I’ll tell you why—” His pause is so abrupt, Steve finds himself reeling. He watches Williams cock his head to the side, a move he’s seen him do a handful of times throughout their entire conversation. He sighs before giving Steve a look he’s seen in a lot of his commanding officers, the look that says he knows more than him, and Steve just has to deal with it. “I need to find a better position.”

To Steve’s chagrin and utter horror, Williams _phases_ through the wall and disappears without further explanation. There one moment, and gone the next. He doesn’t exactly know how long it took him to recover, but when he does, he dashes towards the living room, cursing physics and phantoms under his breath.

“Okay _seriously_ ,” he grumbles by the time he catches up. The house is empty and quiet at midnight, so his attempt at a whisper is magnified. “If this is you stalling, I’m gonna have to reconsider the gun.”

Williams turns around to give him a flat look, and Steve gets the message loud and clear. Guns won’t work, and he wonders whether he should stress himself more in looking for a reason on why the idea doesn’t really bother him as much as it should.

Fortunately, the choice is made for him when Williams finally settles down.

“Okay,” the guys starts, as though pushing words out of his throat is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. “Don’t think I didn’t warn you.”

Steve wants to interrupt, tell him he actually _didn’t_ give any warning whatsoever, but it seems the past few minutes have been a ruse, because once he started talking, Steve finds he couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“There are different kinds of souls, all right. That’s the basic. And yes, souls are real. I understand not all humans believe in the concept, but I’m telling you now. Once and for all. They. Are. Real.” He pauses, as though giving Steve a chance to argue. Unfortunately, Steve is not quick on the uptake, so Williams continues, hands as animated as the tale he's spinning. “One is a Plus, and they are the regular ghosts of dead people. They are the easiest for humans to see. They’re pretty harmless, but it’s vital they don’t stay wandering around, or else they turn into a Hollow, which is the second kind. They’re the bad news. If a human soul stays topside for too long, they risk losing their heart. Hence, they turn into soul-eating creatures without conscience or emotions. Unfortunately, your people are scattered all over the place, and you guys can’t settle down long enough to talk to each other, so different parts of your world have different interpretations of human souls. I’ve read some pretty heavy stuff, my friend. _Heavy stuff_.”

The guy honest-to-god shudders, and Steve suppresses the urge to take offense at how he said ' _you people'_.

“The last one is a Soul Reaper,” Williams continues, “That’s me. We guide a Plus in their crossing over, and we make sure Hollows don’t wreak havoc in your nice little world. It’s a pretty tough gig, but we get the job done.”

He ends his speech with barely a breath to spare, and tilts his head again. Steve suddenly realizes why the move is terribly familiar. He looks like a someone bracing for a combat situation that has somehow been delayed. The recognition is enough to put Steve on alert, and he straightens as he begins to process the fresh intel.

“So that’s why you’re here,” he finally says, letting some of the pieces of information fall into place. He tries to picture the girl in the muddy dress, tucking herself in one side of the kitchen, confused and in pain.  “You’re looking for a… Plus.”

He’s taken aback when Williams shakes his head.

“A Hollow, actually. I sensed a low-class Gillian about an hour ago. I followed the signal all the way to this neighborhood. By the time I reached your house, it just…vanished.”

Steve has no idea what a _Gillian_ is, but when he watches the reaper frown at his own words, he somehow manages to look just as confused with what he’s talking about. It’s the first time he’s seen the guy waver, but before Steve can say anything to keep them both on track, he hears something crash outside. It’s a muffled noise, like an explosion inside a soundproof booth. It distracts him enough that he doesn’t realize his companion has resumed talking.

“…stopped working, too. The energy of a Hollow is one thing, but I also started to feel—okay _what_ is the matter with you?”

“You don’t hear that?”

Williams clearly does not appreciate being rudely interrupted, but he cranes his neck to listen nonetheless. “Hear what?”

The sound is getting louder, and whatever causing it is getting much, much closer.   

“Would you just _tell_ me what it is you—”

Steve pauses from peering behind the curtain to look at the reaper, who froze mid-sentence and is looking like a terrible realization has dawned on him. It’s a subtle change, but Steve sees it in the way his eyes glint under the moonlight.

“Step away from the window.”

It’s more than a little unnerving, and the Navy SEAL in Steve is screaming at him to huff in indignation. However, the human in him, the part that still has self-preservation left, pulls him away from the thought, and he reluctantly obeys. Williams has shed the attempt at a laid-back demeanor he has been adapting the entire night. Whatever feelings Steve has on the shift in behavior is quickly sidelined when the noise stopped, just when it seemed to have reached just outside the house.

A moment later, they hear a loud crash, followed by a scream Steve wishes he did not recognize.

Mary.

 

\---

 

When Danny finally senses the Hollow, it’s a little too late.

It’s a Gillian, all right, but on its way to evolve into an Adjuchas. It also has a significant amount of spiritual signature, which begs the question: why could he not sense it?

The most likely answer is currently taking the stairs three steps at a time, screaming bloody murder it’s a miracle the rest of the people of Piikoi St. remains asleep. It’s certainly to Danny’s advantage, since judging by another crash he hears from the second floor, it’s going to be an ugly battle. Taking a deep breath to control his own spiritual energy, he flash steps to the source of the ruckus.

“Mary!”

The room is a wreck, and there’s a huge whole on the wall facing the street, where Danny can see a young, blonde girl in the clutches of a really, ugly-looking Menos Grande.

Steve yells for her, for _Mary_ , again, but before he can jump into the fray — and Danny knows the human _would have_ taken that leap because he saw it in his eyes — he is thrown across the room and locked in a binding spell. He looks confused for a moment, before glaring daggers at Danny’s glowing hands.

“What the—”

Danny can see that the Whats and Whos coming out of his mouth the entire night is starting to grate on McGarrett’s nerves, but there’s nothing much he can do, really. Military or not, the man has no idea how severely outclassed he is in this situation, and Danny has yet to lose a human charge. He’s not about to try that anytime soon.

“Sit your ass down, there’s nothing you can do.”

McGarrett gapes at him for a full second, before his eyes blaze with so much _fury_ , for a moment, Danny fears one of them just might spontaneously combust.

“Like _hell_ I am! That’s my sister in there! I can’t—” He whips his head back to the Hollow, his struggling becoming more and more erratic. “Mary! Let me _go_ , you stupid idiot! MARY!”

Danny has it in good authority that he is one of the best Soul Reapers in the business when it comes to dealing with humans. He has studied their ways and customs for centuries, after all. Even actively wanted to be one of them once, but hey, that’s a story for another time. Fact is, humans are emotional, and very social. Most of them value familial relations above others, and both Hollows and Soul Reapers have adapted to this reality over the centuries.

He follows McGarrett’s gaze, and watches carefully at how the Gillian is dangling the girl in the air, like a prize. It’s teasing, all right. It won’t hurt her.

And Danny knows why.

It’s taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure it out, but now that he gets it, Danny finds it makes perfect sense. A human who can touch Soul Reapers? Check. Spiritual energy strong enough to jam his Soul Watch and overpower the signal of a Hollow? Check. Human soul so appetizing Danny can practically see the Hollow drooling? Bingo.

It’s not gonna eat Mary, all right. Not yet, anyway. Not when there’s a much bigger fish to fry, currently on his ass next to Danny, writhing for his life.

“MARY!”

He takes one more look at McGarrett, and knows the man will never stop struggling, so he decides to leave him be. Standing on his full height — which he knows is not that impressive compared to the giraffe beside him har-de-har — Danny takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He can feel the thrumming of his sword, knows it feels the same things he does. It’s a little odd, and frankly unsettling, to unsheathe his weapon in front of a human who can see him clear as day, but there’s a little excitement to it, too. Danny’s not vain, but he’s not above the occasional showing off. He may not release his Soul Slayer tonight, but getting the chance to whip out a legit _sword_ in a battle might just shut Lieutenant Commander Green Eyes up.

“My, my, my.” They both turn to the creature, who's attempt at a purr makes Danny want to gag. He suspects it to be about 15 feet in height, and again, ridiculously hideous. “What do we have here? A Soul Reaper?”

It’s white mask is round at the top, and elongated down the jawline, with dark, purple stripes like a single whisker running across each cheek. The Hollow’s body is dark grey, and its arms long and lithe. Danny almost laughed at how its form reminds him of a fish, before it turns to its side, showcasing the dorsal fin on its back.

Great.

Trust a Hollow in Hawaii to look like a giant tuna.

“STEVE!” the blonde in the Gillian’s grasp screams. Danny catches a glimpse of her eyes, a mirror to that of her brother’s. There’s terror in them, and a stupid amount of familiar, stubborn bravery. “GET OUT OF HERE! JUST—GET OUT! GO!”

Danny has a feeling if he weren’t already a reaper, these siblings will be the death of him.

“All right,” he mutters, unsheathing his weapon, “Enough games, you ugly mug.”

But before he can step into the night, the sound of breaking chains snaps him out of his concentration. When he whips his head to where McGarrett is, he finds the man already out of the binding spell and slowly standing up.

It’s Danny’s turn to gape. _How…_

“Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

To Danny’s utter horror, he charges for the crack in the wall, and launches himself at the Hollow.

“Hey, wait— MCGARRETT NO!”

He recovers just in time to jump and catch Mary, the impact of her brother’s lunge allowing the creature to drop the girl. Danny curses McGarrett’s recklessness, then, since none of his stunts would’ve mattered if his sister still plummeted to her death. So he makes sure to secure Mary at the end of the street, a good distance away from the Hollow, before going back to save the human’s idiotic ass, which is now pinned to the pavement with one of the creature’s massive hands.

“I finally found you,” the Hollow tells his prey.

Danny sees the declaration’s effect on the human. McGarrett tenses up and stops moving, visibly shocked. He knows it’s an opportunity for the creature to finish the job, so Danny moves fast and buries his sword at the Hollow’s open mouth.

“ _Fuck_.” One of his shoulders gets snagged by the creature’s teeth, and the sharp bolt of pain makes Danny grit his teeth. He throws a look behind him, and sees McGarrett squirming out of the Hollow’s hold.

“My sister…where’s…” He looks a little dazed and out of breath, but uninjured. “…Mary, where—”

Danny pulls his blade out of the Hollow’s jaw and kicks as hard as he can. It stumbles from the hit before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. He knows it’s not completely gone, and the battle far from over, so he keeps his guard up even as he makes his way to the human, helping him stand with his good arm.

“She’s over there,” he says, pointing to the lamppost a few blocks over. The girl is hunched on the corner, most probably still shaking, but Danny can make out the telltale signs of heavy breathing.

“Is she…?”

“She’s fine,” he assures him, with a little more force than necessary because goodness, the man takes wild eyes on a whole new level. “A little shaken up but—” he manages to swallow a hiss as the pain on his wound spikes, but McGarrett still catches it, “she’s fine. If you get her out of here before the Hollow comes back, you’ll both be all right.”

With a sideways glance, he watches the other man frown, as though unable to process what he just said. Danny follows as his eyes take in his injury, and he has to fight the urge to groan.

“Look. It’s not—”

“You honestly can’t expect me to just leave you here.”

He narrows his eyes at him. “Yes, I can. Don’t be stupid, you’re human.”

“And you’re injured. You said so yourself, that thing’s gonna come back.”

Danny can feel his patience evaporating, and if his guess is correct, the Hollow is bound to reappear any second now, so he turns to face McGarrett and hopes his next words will be enough to make him back off.

“How long have you been in Hawaii?”

For a brief moment, McGarrett looks taken aback, but he shuts it down fast enough to scowl again. “How did you—”

“I said _how long_.”

“A couple of days! What does that even have to do with anything?”

Great. Danny’s right, after all.

“Listen, _Lieutenant Commander_ , and listen good." Fortunately, the man gives him his full attention, and out in the street, under the mercy of a full moon, Danny can better see his face. There's something about his dark hair and strong jaw that makes him pause, and his breath catches. When his shoulder stings, he forces himself to focus. "The creature that attacked your sister wasn’t here to eat her soul. While there’s been an unusual increase of Hollow activity for the past few months, it reached its peak around four days ago, which is, I’d assume, when you arrived on the island. Correct?”

Danny knows he’s right, but McGarrett is one stubborn prick.  “I…I don’t understand. How does—”

“I was following it perfectly fine an hour ago, before I reached your house and I was side-tracked by an unusual spirit signature that kept blocking me from sensing the Hollow’s energy. At first I thought, just too many Plus in one place, but now I know it wasn’t.”

He takes a deep breath, allowing the pain to help keep his senses sharper. When he fixes his gaze at the him, he knows the man completely and utterly understands the point he is trying to make.

“It was you.”

Suddenly, there’s deep growl and the sound of a child crying behind Danny and when he turns around, he sees that the Hollow is back, this time with the Plus of a little girl in his grasp.

He hears Steve gasp beside him. “No…”

Danny grips his sword tighter, mentally preparing for when he has to release his Slayer. “That Hollow is after your soul, McGarrett, so take your sister and get out of here _now._ ”

“No.”

He hears McGarrett take a deep breath, before watching him limp forward, stopping just a few steps in front of him.

“You said that thing, that… _Hollow_ , it’s after me, right?” He doesn’t bother waiting for Danny to respond. “And my sister got hurt in the process. Now, it’s got that kid like a bait to make sure I’m properly motivated.” Danny looks at the little girl, wearing pigtails and a princess dress with sunflowers. Something inside him suspects it’s not just McGarrett the Hollow’s trying to mock. “Well now, I am. And you’re injured, so you’re just gonna have to deal, Williams.”

Danny has never before felt such a strong urge to smack someone. The hit he took in the shoulder is less than ideal, sure, but he’s had worse before. He wants to take the moronic human by the shoulders and inform him ever so kindly that he’s been a Soul Reaper for _centuries_ and has most likely met his early ancestors, but before he can do so, Steve runs towards the Hollow and the Plus child, charging like a well-meaning but completely misguided bull.

“WHA— YOU IDIOT!”

Amazingly, the man doesn’t draw his gun, and Danny thanks his lucky stars for small mercies. The last thing they need is report of gunshots aimed at things most humans can’t even see.

“Fucking _animal._ ”

The Hollow throws the child away and braces for its real target. Danny watches the glint in its yellow eyes, and he can see what’s about to unfold clear as day.

McGarrett will lunge for one of the creature’s eyes, a knife he most probably took out from one of his many pant pockets already in a tight grip. He will likely succeed, but the assault will do nothing more than annoy the Hollow. It will flail, and swing back and forth enough to give the human a chance to climb its back. It’s a perfect position for when you have a Soul Slayer. One thrust, and the fight is done. But McGarrett is no reaper, and when the Hollow recovers, angry and sensitive about the nuisance on its back, it will hurl the human into the sky. The Gillian’s long arms will ensure a height even soldier boys can’t land on his feet from. If the fall won’t kill him, the Hollow’s open mouth will.

Danny leaps into the fray before it all happens.

“Williams!”

The last thing he remembers is grabbing McGarrett mid-pounce with high-intensity flash stepping, the sound of blade against Hollow flesh, and pain.

"Fucking _hell_."

Danny can’t recall the last time he’s been this injured. He’s broken _at least_ four ribs, and he knows he’s got a punctured lung. His shoulder has yet to stop bleeding and his left leg is bent at an odd angle. He barely sees McGarrett running towards him through the blood trickling down one side of his face.

“You fucking _idiot_! I had it under control!”

They both know just how much of a bullshit his words are, but Danny finds he’s too out of it to so much as scoff. He hopes the guy can interpret his feeble attempt at an eye roll at the very least.

“I… I’m the idiot?”

He hates how weak his voice is, but the lung is really starting to get to him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” McGarrett mutters under his breath. “This is bad, man.”

A few blocks away, The Hollow, sans one of its arms, stands and starts to make its way to them.

“Listen, McGarrett,” he manages to breathe out, giving his sword one more glance. Perfect. First time in a really long time that he’s incapacitated in a battle, and it’s against a _Gillian_ , of all things. He hasn’t even released his Slayer. His Seated Officers will have a field day when they hear about it. “You wanna save your sister? You really wanna help me take down that bastard?”

McGarrett looks up from his intense staring contest with his fractured leg and fixes him an ‘ _are you kidding me’_ look.

“Okay. All right. Wrong question.”

Danny chances one last breath, shuddering at the blinding pain that it causes, and tries to compose himself.

“It’s only temporary, but…well, we both can— we can both see I ain’t getting up anytime soon.” The man has the gall to scoff before they both flinch at the sound of the approaching Hollow. “In which case, someone...someone else has to be the Soul Reaper in my place.”

McGarrett blinks at him as though he’s grown two heads, and on any other day, Danny would beat him to it, but things are different now.

“Some…who, _me_?”

Slowly, Danny raises his sword and points it at the human. Now or never.

“I will…I’m gonna stab you with my sword. That way, I can— it’ll lend you some of my spiritual energy, enough for you to finish the job.” The idea sounds even more stupid out loud, but hey, Danny has always excelled at stupid. “At least, that’s what I’m hoping is gonna happen.”

Green eyes narrow at him. “Wait. You’re not _sure_?”

Danny’s heard of the procedure, what with being friends with R&D nerds his whole life. Theoretically, it’s gonna work. But he suspects no one has attempted to do it for a really good reason.

“Not completely.”

He watches McGarrett struggle against whatever’s left of his Neanderthal brain that is still functioning properly for a long moment. When Danny feels like he’s gonna pass out before the man can make decision, he looks at his sister long and hard, and finally turns to him.

"It's Steve."

Danny manages a loud and painful sigh. Great. He's gonna die next to a reckless and stupid human, whose conversation skills are abysmal and all over the place.  "What?"

"My name," said human says. "I think you've earned the right to call me by my first name."

Danny hopes _Steve_ won't take him rolling his eyes the wrong way, because really? Right now?

"All right, Steve. I guess you can call me Danny, too." Amazingly, the man flashes him a bright grin, and Danny finds he doesn't mind it all that much. "Now, do we— we gonna do this, or what?"

The last thread of doubt Danny held on to snaps when Steve nods, sharply, but in no way lacking conviction.

“Do it.”

Danny focuses all his remaining energy on the center of his spiritual pressure, at his core. When his unsealed blade lights up, he hears familiar words surface from the deepest of his treasured memories, before he thrusts the sword at the willing human.

_I’m always with you, my love._

 


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time since he can remember, Steve does not wake up with a start.

Instead, his return to consciousness is like dragging a Navy ship anchor that is tied to his neck along a muddy trail: slow and agonizing. His limbs feel as though they’ve melted right on to the bed, there’s a throbbing in his head that he just can’t shake, and no matter which way he turns, there is no escaping the unforgiving sunlight burning its way into his sealed eyelids.

Needless to say, Steve isn’t entertaining thoughts of moving anytime soon.

_LET ME GO!_

_You want to save your sister?_

_It was you._

_I’m a Soul Reaper._

_WILLIAMS!_

He is ripped from the swirl of images and voices so violently, it takes a moment for him to realize the loud pulsing of his heartbeat is in real time, and not a fragment of another memory. In and out, Steve breathes, following a controlled pattern. When his eyes dart around the room, they find a familiar picture frame, and he forces himself to lock into it. In and out.

It’s over. It’s just a dream. It all happened last night. It’s all o—

Something’s not right.

Faster than his previously sleep-addled brain would’ve wanted, he jumps off the bed and whirls to face the wall it’s propped at. Still intact. All the windows are open, with sunlight streaming in. The curtains look immaculate, despite the fact that Steve knows it’s _not supposed to be._

There should’ve been a large hole on that wall. He knows. He jumped through it last night.

“Steve!”

The unmistakable voice of Mary calls from downstairs, followed by a yelp, and the sound of something metallic crashing against the kitchen floor. He bolts for the door before he can think about anything else.

“I, uh…” His sister picks the still smoking pan off the floor and gives it a little shake, “made breakfast?”

Steve barely registers the smell of burnt pancakes. He’s much too preoccupied with watching Mary putter about in the kitchen, as though mere hours ago, she wasn’t ten feet in the air, in the arms of a —

“Hollow,” he breathes out, remembering what Danny called it. He feels a jolt to his spine, and the hooves return to his chest. “ _Danny._ Where’s —” He leaves the kitchen in a flash, even makes a move to go back upstairs before realizing he just came that way, and returns with what he’s sure is a crazy look in his eyes. “Have you seen Danny? Where’d he go? What happened after —” Steve racks his brain for the last thing he remembers, but comes up blank.

“Danny?” Mary asks, before he can repeat his questions. The look on her face tells him she’s judging him, but the amusement thrown in there means she won’t hold it against him. “You brought someone home last night?”

Through the ringing in his ears, Steve tries to look at his sister properly. It takes a long moment, before everything clicks, The fixed wall, the clean clothes, Mary going about her day like a normal, non-traumatized person.

His sister can’t remember anything. And he shouldn’t either.

“Mary, I—I can’t…”

_Listen, Lieutenant Commander!_

_You idiot!_

_I guess you can call me Danny, too._

Steve remembers. There's a thrumming just beneath his skin, and the pictures in his mind are getting sharper by the minute. God help him, he remembers.

“So,” Mary says carefully, breaking him out of his thoughts, “Whoever your friend was, he clearly didn’t stay. And I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, and these pancakes, while obviously mouth-watering, just won’t do the trick.” She places the pan on the sink and takes off the mitten she must’ve worn in panic. “I’ll grab my purse, we can eat outside.”

Before he can do anything to stop her, Mary takes off, and Steve is left to process on his own.

It wasn’t a dream.

Steve is sure of it, as sure as he has ever been of anything in his life. He can still feel the pressure that knocked the SIG out of his firm grip, the same force that held his arms and legs together when Danny attempted to bench him. He remembers his bright, blue eyes; squinted in mild curiosity and blown wide open in controlled panic. He can still hear Mary screaming at him to get away. The last time he heard the same wail from his sister, she was ten and their world just turned upside down. Now, when it seems like it’s about to happen again, she can’t remember anything.

“Mare?”

He finds her in the living room, staring at the doorway that led to their father’s study, face unreadable.

“Hey,” he says, slow and careful. At the funeral, she stood by the car and flirted with police officers. It’s the first time Steve sees her remotely acknowledging that the only parent they have left in the world is now dead.

“I know you made sure it was no longer an active crime scene by the time I got here.” Her voice is so soft, so small, if Steve was not standing three feet beside her, he never would’ve heard any of what she’s saying. Something tells him she may not even realize she’s speaking out loud. “But uh…I look around, and I just _know_ , you know? I know.” When she turns to him, her eyes are glassy. “This is where my father died. This is where we lost him. Only it wasn’t last week, no.”

Steve can’t find it in him to disagree. Mary’s right. John McGarrett died in this house, sure. Twenty years ago, when his own partner knocked on their door and told them there had been a car accident.

Something catches in Steve's throat.

“I—” He looks around the living room, a little frantic in his search for his car keys, “I have to go. There’s uhm…yeah. There are files. In the precinct. Gotta get ‘em.” He doesn’t stop to look at Mary’s face before he’s out the door. It’s a dick move, Steve knows, but the walls just started to close in on him, and his sister’s grief, suddenly tangible and coming off her like waves, is just too much to handle.

When he reaches his truck, his eyes take in Piikoi St. In the middle of the day, it looks far from the quiet stretch of pavement his world narrowed into the night before. There are no visible scuff marks to indicate the fight that took place. Even the curb where Danny sat, bleeding from when he appeared out of nowhere to pluck him from the jaws of death, stayed pristine.

As though everything truly _was_ just a dream.

_Do it._

He still can’t recall what happened after that, though, so before he can drive himself even crazier, Steve starts the truck and heads for HPD.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Officer Lee begins, giving his notepad a good, hard look, “But you want me to check if there had been any reports of…disturbance, in Piikoi street and the surrounding neighborhoods last night, around midnight. Something about…” Steve watches as the guy’s eyelashes flutter, like he’s really trying his best not to look up and stare at him helplessly, “mini earthquakes, or unusual howling sounds?”

“Yes,” Steve tells him, too restless to be offended. “Like the ground shaking beneath their feet. Or if—” Or if anyone had seen a blond with black, leather trench coat, he wants to add. Perhaps someone with a four-foot sword and fractured leg, zipping in and out of their peripheral vision like a lightning bolt. “Just tell me if there were reports. Most likely within a hundred-meter radius of my house.”

When he finally lets Officer Lee go, — and judging by how the poor guy was sweating, he was being held completely against his will — Steve turns to his father’s desk, wondering what else he can find that he hasn’t come across for the past couple of days.

“Commander McGarrett?”

Steve turns and finds Sgt. Duke Lukela a few tables over, looking a little surprised by his presence. Of all the times Steve’s prowled around the HQ, demanding he be kept in the loop with any details regarding his father’s case, Lukela remains one of the handful of officers Steve actually took seriously, and who took him seriously in return.

“It’s a good thing you’re here today, though a little too late.” The cop gestures to the empty desk next to his father’s. “Your old man’s partner, Detective Kelly? Turned in his badge early this morning. The Captain couldn’t get anything from him, said he wouldn’t explain why. Just that it’s the right thing to do.” Before Steve can ask what he’s been dying to know since he learned his father’s partner has been MIA since the murder, Sgt. Lukela beats him to it. “He’s clean, Commander. Detective Kelly has an alibi that checks out, and has been pretty close with your dad in the years they worked together. Like I told you before, Chin hasn’t got anything to do with your dad’s death. Why he’d quit now of all times, I’ve no idea.”

Steve knows what he’s gut is telling him. This Chin Ho Kelly knows something, and somehow, Lukela thinks the same thing, too, if the look he gives him before walking away is anything to go by.

“Hey, Duke?”

When the cop stops and gives him an expectant look, Steve finds he can’t quite find the right words to make what he’s about to ask more sensible than when it came out with Officer Lee. But he has to know, and there’s only so many people on the island he can approach without being wheeled into Queen’s Behavioral Health wing.

“There’s something I gotta ask.” It’s not the best sentence openers, especially with the rest of what he’s planning to do, but for some reason, Steve’s managed to catch Sgt. Lukela’s interest, and the older guy fixes him with an even and patient stare. “And trust me, man, I’m completely aware how crazy it’s all gonna sound but—you’re just gonna have to…just listen to me, all right?”

_I’m just wondering why you don’t seem to think I’m lying._

“Commander?”

Steve blinks, and realizes he has yet to continue.

“Do you— I mean, in all your years in the force, have you ever—” All the stammering has effectively turned Steve into the clueless and bumbling kid before Annapolis, and there are no words to express how much he hates it. “Look. I just wanna know if you’ve ever come across something you can’t explain. Something you know is _real_ , but neither evidence nor science can prove.” He looks the cop in the eye, hoping he can convey what his words cannot. “Something a part of you has always known, but refused to believe in.”

“Sergeant Lukela. Commander McGarrett.”

It really says a lot about how out of it Steve has been, if he’d failed to notice the Governor of Hawaii herself has walked in the bullpen.

“Ma’am.”

Governor Jameson turns to Lukela with polite nod. “Sergeant, you mind if I speak to Commander McGarrett for a minute?”

Jameson waits for the cop to round the corner before she faces Steve. He somehow finds it difficult to read her, has next to nothing on what she could possibly want from him.

“Perhaps you’d find it better if we talk outside?”

It’s phrased as a question, but Steve knows it held no room for argument, so outside they go.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Commander,” is what she starts with, which Steve thinks he should’ve expected. He was about to respond with a practiced nod, before she continues with, “I knew your father.” For a moment, his mind reminds him she’s the Governor of the state and his father is a veteran in the HPD, but something in the look on her face tells Steve it’s entirely more than that.

Patricia Jameson, even in her black, practical heels, stands almost a head shorter than Steve, but she holds herself like she’s ten feet tall. Her suit is plain and insignificant, and her blonde hair a little unkempt, but they do nothing to diminish the authority she clearly holds. Jameson’s eyes, steady and focused, hint at the tension and desperation she seems have a good grip on only to a trained eye.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,” she continues.

Steve takes a deep breath, and figures a straight line is the best way to go about it. “Is this about the investigation?”

Jameson, for her part, doesn’t miss a beat. “Yes. I have HPD’s finest on the case, as well as alerts all across the islands.”

Steve remembers landing, and going straight to HQ. He recalls how Sgt. Lukela was the only one to have _anything_ resembling a lead, and the rest of the force seemingly not caring that one of their own just got killed. Between that and the confusing crime scene he had to turn upside down, Steve knows Jameson’s _finest_ has nothing.

“They have nothing,” he tells her. She flinches, and that’s all Steve needs to know.  “But I take it I can’t say the same for you.”

It takes a moment before she nods. “Let’s take a walk, Commander.”

They make it a few yards past King Kamehameha’s statue before the governor speaks again.

“Your father’s death was a wake-up call to every law enforcement in Hawaii, and to me.” She keeps her eyes straight ahead, and Steve watches the slight clench of her jaw. “Which is why I’m putting together a task force, and I want you to run it.”

It makes him pause, but he keeps the pace. “You don’t even know me, governor.”

“I know your resume,” she insists. “Annapolis. Five years Naval Intelligence, six years with the SEALs; your superiors say that you are the best that they have ever seen.”

He suddenly stops, and turns to Jameson when she does the same.

“All due respect, ma’am, but I came back to the island to find the bastard that killed my father. I may not be a cop, but cases like these, they go cold fast, and the last thing I need is a job offer and a rundown of my own file.” Steve knows he should be careful, but there’s always a thrill when you put self-assured, authority figures in their place. “So if you don’t have anything that can help me, I’d best be on my way.”

He makes it three steps before Jameson’s voice stops him.

“I heard your conversation with Sgt. Lukela.”

When he turns to face her again, her eyes look hard, and resolute.

“There’s a reason why HPD has close to nothing on your father’s murder, and why the officers there can’t seem to make heads or tails about what little they have.” Steve knows she’s watching him for every reaction. What she finds, he can’t entirely be sure of, but it’s enough for her to continue. “For the past few years, John has been investigating cases that, for the lack of better term, are shrouded in mystery; things that no one else can explain. Missing person reports that stay unresolved for _decades_ , damaged properties with no cause or reason, save for witness testimonies that speak of unusual midnight disturbance, reports of animal sounds, only they’re not sure exactly what animal.”

Jameson goes on about other examples, describing them in detail, and the whole time, Steve just stands there, only half listening. He finds it amazing how he can still parse through the governor’s words, even when his own blood started to run cold midway through Jameson’s revelation.

“I grew up on the island, Commander; I know Oahu like the back of my hand. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been seeing things even science cannot explain, and it’s only when I met your father that I found someone who just might be able to help me find answers.” When she fixes her gaze on him again, Steve finds the same quiet understanding he shared with a pair of bright, blue eyes the night before. “I believe John McGarrett’s death is one of these cases, and it will only be through a different avenue, one that specializes in such, that we can find justice for your father. If I’m right, then I know you feel the same way, too.”

There’s a long moment before Steve hears anything else, and it takes a while for him to realize it’s his own voice. “A task force, huh.”

“Yes,” Jameson says. “I can guarantee you full immunity and means, Commander. To go after those that pose an unseen threat to the citizens of Hawaii. All the resources and the backing you need to solve your father’s murder, and to get to the bottom of all this. So we can get it off my island.”

 

\---

 

When Danny opens his eyes, the first thing that greets him is a pair of big and bright, yellow eyes.

Fortunately for him, he’s been staring at those eyes, as well as the painfully familiar glare they’re currently frozen in, for a long enough time that he is barely surprised.

“Get off me, Mal.”

The owner of said eyes — a small, domestic cat with shiny, black fur — seemingly huffs in a manner that Danny has seen far too many times in his boyhood days. When he finds himself unable to suppress a snort, the feline gives his chest one last meaningful push before it hops off his supine body.

Danny follows the cat as it gracefully lands on the carpet, making its way to a pair of legs slowly approaching the bed. When he lifts his gaze to squint at his human visitor, he finds himself staring at yet another pair of unamused eyes.

Just what he needs. A tag team.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Chin greets him, stopping just at the foot of his bed, crossing his arms as he gets comfortable in a Totally-Not-Judging-You pose. It still surprises Danny, in some moments, how much the man has blended with the environment. Once upon a time, it would've been unthinkable. “You look great, by the way.”

Since he’s feeling particularly petty, Danny raises his eyebrows at the cat next to Chin’s slipper.

“I look better than Mal, that’s for sure.”

Mal the Cat hisses at him, and leaves the room with a strut. Chin chuckles softly, and it only increases the indignation bubbling up Danny's chest. He feels he has the right to be cranky, with how much everything _hurts._

“Ok, _now_ the cat is sensitive. What is _with_ you two today? Can’t I get a ‘good morning, Danny’ before Judgment Express arrives?”

He forgets how spot on Chin’s poker face can be.

“Good morning, Danny.”

Danny sometimes wonders how he ever manages to miss the guy. He succeeds with an eye roll before he attempts to sit up, and that’s when everything shifted.

“Hey, hey, don’t—”

“ _What_ _the_ —”

His vision tips, and the whole world narrows into a single point: his very solid, very much made-of-human-flesh hands.

“Danny, you have to— just _breathe_ , okay? Everything’s fine, you’re fine. Just breathe.”

He can’t. He can’t breathe.

“Chin, why…why am I—” His entire body itches, the need to _get away_ and vault himself outside of the room as primal as the heartbeat now pounding against his chest. He feels every tight pull, every twitch, of his spiritual form. The same one currently trapped inside a faux body. “I don’t— Chin, let me _out_. Let me—   _LET_ ME OUT!”

A pair of strong arms holds him down for what seems like an eternity. When Danny finally feels himself acclimating to both the heartbeats and the physical sensation of actually breathing, his muscles go slack and he leans against the headboard.

The silence stretches for a few more beats, before he hears Chin's voice, tight and careful.

“You were half dead when we got to you, Danny. With the amount of damage your soul form sustained, we had to get you inside one of these as fast as we could.” Danny feels the bed dip when Chin takes a seat next to his legs. “There wasn’t exactly time to wait for your permission.”

It takes a while for the other man’s words to settle in his mind, and when they do, Danny sees a faint glint in his peripheral vision. Like moonlight against the blade of a sword.

_Eat this, you son of a bitch!_

“Steve,” he breathes out.

"Danny—"

He grips Chin’s arm so tight, he barely registers the sensation of human flesh to human flesh contact, his mind racing with flashes of memory, all from the battle. "Chin, I—" The adrenaline comes back, the sensation of his soul form going into combat mode from underneath his faux body so disconcerting. The body quickly adjusts, however, and soon enough, Danny is panicking both outside and within. “I have to— the human I was with, he— his sister, there’s—”

“Hey, relax. Relax. I got it. It’s fine, now. It’s been taken care of.”

_How did you do that?_

_I don’t…I don’t know._

Danny forces himself to focus just enough to look at Chin, and his calm demeanor helps in settling his frayed nerves.

“What do you mean?”

Chin’s eyebrows meet and when he sighs, Danny lets him go.

“We got to the place just after it was over. We took you here and left the others to take care of the damages. Kamekona told me everything’s wrapped. The two humans were cleared, and there were no other witnesses. They found a Plus within the vicinity as well, and called a friendly to perform a Soul Burial.”

Danny struggles to keep up with everything Chin is saying.

Cleared.

Before his find can process that bit of information, Danny locks into something else.

“Wait. You knew I had patrol?”

Chin shakes his head. “No. But Mal sensed Soul Reapers in Pearl City and somewhere near Waikiki. Then we sensed a huge surge of spiritual power in your location just past midnight." He pauses, and Danny can see a shadow pass over his face. It happens so quickly, part of him thinks it must've been a trick of the light. "Imagine my surprise when we found you.”

His friend's voice is soft and distant, and the inevitable onslaught of guilt starts to creep in. Slow but steady, Danny’s mind continues to supply him with images from the previous night, each one more vivid than the last. The more he remembers, the greater that dread in his stomach grows.

“Chin, I…I did something." The enormity of his actions and their possible consequences are starting to dawn on him. "There’s was no time to— I couldn’t risk not having a plan, so I—”

“Yeah.” Chin’s face is grim, but understanding. “I figured just as much. Pieced everything together by the time I got you here.”

It ought to surprise him how transparent he’s become, but Danny knows the reason why. In his weakened state, the shields protecting his spiritual pressure are not as iron-clad as they used to be, and to any talented and self-aware soul, especially one who’s known Danny as long as Chin has, reading his energy levels are as easy as spotting a Plus. And when one looks, they can see that half of Danny’s usual spiritual reserves are gone.

“Half?” Danny says, unable to decide whether to be horrified or in awe. “He took _half_ of my energy?”

_How did you do that?_

“Seems like it,” Chin tells him. If Danny were in a better condition, he would've held on to the catch in the man's words, the part that tells him he knows more than he lets on, but exhaustion eventually sets in. “That, plus how badly you were beaten, keeping you in that body is the quickest way to ensure your form stays intact.”

When Danny closes his eyes, he can see it clear as day.

_I don't know._

No wonder Steve McGarrett had such a powerful temporary Soul Slayer. It wasn’t temporary at all.

“Shit.”

He has to find him.


	4. Chapter 4

He remembers waiting for the pain that never came, and a burst of blinding, silver light.

When it faded, Steve found himself standing in the middle of the street, sporting what seemed like a tailored, three-piece suit, under the tackiest brown leather coat he’s ever seen, much less worn. His favorite boots were also replaced by patent leather shoes, and when he turned to demand an explanation, he found Danny still slumped on the curb, but dressed in all white: plain shirt and chinos, and gaping at him— or more specifically, gaping at the broad sword he had gripped with both hands.

The soul-eating creature continued to screech, just a few yards from them, and Steve’s questions died on his throat. Something powerful and alien thrummed under his skin, and he charged instead for the Hollow with renewed vigor.

_“Eat this, you son of a bitch!”_

“Hey!”

His thoughts are interrupted by Mary, flicking her eyes between him and the untouched plate of Kalbi ribs in front of him.

“You gonna eat that?”

There are still bags under her eyes, but his sister seems better rested than the previous nights. She makes no attempt to hide the scrutiny in her gaze, but there’s no heat to it. She just looks worried. Worried but perfectly healthy, and Steve has to take a deep breath to control the sudden surge of relief that bubbles up his chest.

“Well?”

He follows her eyes and chokes down the nausea brought by the meat’s aroma. A Side Street lunch seemed like a good idea an hour ago, before their meals were served and Steve did not feel a great urge to upchuck.

“Nah. It’s all yours.”

Mary gives him one more meaningful look, before shrugging and moving the plate towards her.

He felt bad about ditching her yesterday, so after another quick detour to the  station that morning, he met up with her for lunch. Despite over a decade of not seeing each other, Steve is delighted to know that the best way to appease Mary Ann McGarrett is still with good food.

“So,” she starts, talking and eating in the same habit their mother tried her very best to break her out of, “you ever found that friend of yours?”

“Who?” he asks absently, scanning the perimeter a third time, feeling the weight of the piece of paper Sgt. Lukela slipped him that morning.

_If anyone knows where Chin is, it’d be him._

“Your friend. The Danny? You seemed freaked out yesterday.”

The effect is instant, and Steve freezes, quickly trying his best not to meet Mary’s eyes, lest she reads more than she’s supposed to know. More than she’s supposed to remember.

Between turning the governor’s words over in his mind again and again, and penning every single detail he can remember from the fever dream his sister insists on forgetting, Steve barely had any sleep last night. He’s succeeded in recovering more from his fuzzy memories, but he was hours into staring at a poor sketch of Vice Captain Daniel Williams when the sun came up, and he was still nowhere near crossing the gap between throwing himself into a sword and waking up in his bed.

“There it is again. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It’s a terrible attempt at humor, and she tries a chuckle, but it ends up rather flat. Steve doesn’t need to look up to know she just flinched. “Coz if that’s the case, then that’d make one of us.”

It’s not what he expected, and he turns to her with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs. “I don’t see them anymore.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know what she meant by _‘them’_.

“What do you _mean_?”

Mary rolls her eyes, but Steve can’t find it in himself to care. His heart is pounding so loud, he won’t be surprised if the tourists next to them can hear it.

“I always see them, every day. In the streets, when I round a corner. But since yesterday, I haven’t…” Her voice turns whisper quiet. “There’s nothing. Not a single one.”

Steve watches Mary’s downcast eyes, and the way her shoulders sag.

 _I take drugs to_ cope _with all the kinds of shit I see!_

Once upon a time, he would’ve thought no longer seeing phantoms would make his sister happier, would give her _peace_. God knows how long he’s wanted the same thing to happen to him. Now, looking at how Mary holds herself, like an untethered kite floating in the wind, he realizes that maybe what his sister needed was just someone to stick up for her, all those years ago.

“Where are you headed after this?” He clears his throats, hoping to send a silent apology through his shrug. He’s sure he’ll soon give his sister whiplash with his abrupt conversation turns the past few days, but going down that road is not something Steve is willing to do just yet.

He’s grateful for the shape that takes over Mary’s face, which is not quite a smile, but getting there.

“I dunno. Home, I guess. Might do some cleaning if I feel like it.” She scowls when she catches his gaze. “What? I clean.”

She’s still regaling him with memories from their childhood where she was mom’s little helper even on her way to her rental. Steve watches her drive to the opposite direction with the beginnings of smile on his face, before he’s headed to Ala Moana.

Half an hour later, Steve finds himself toe to toe with the informant Duke told him about.

“Like I said, you won’t get nothing from me, haole.”

On the surface, Kamekona Tupuola can be quite intimidating. With his shaved head and large build, it looks like it would take only a flick of the wrist to send unsuspecting tourists flying off the shore. But in his shave ice stand, he greets customers and hustles tourists with a smile and an accented English. Steve enjoyed the same treatment for the whole two seconds it took to state his intent, before the guy’s face darkened and Steve quickly remembered the rap sheet Catherine sent him that morning.

“Look, man.” He decides to try for casual, since any and all intimidation tactics have proven to be futile against Tupuola. “I just need to know where Chin Ho Kelly is, that’s it. I’m not here for you, or your business. Just give me Kelly.”

It’s when he finishes, his voice edging on desperation, that Steve finally sees it. The glint in the other guy’s eyes is not out of self-preservation, or the instinctive evasion that comes with people doing shady business. Kamekona Tupuola is loyal, and Steve’s resolve weakens when he realizes exactly the kind of man he’s dealing with: someone who’d rather die than give up a friend.

If it weren’t hindering him from getting what he wants, Steve would’ve admired it.

“Have a nice day, Commander,” Tupuola says, as though sensing Steve’s conclusion.

Remnants of the good mood his lunch with Mary gave him stops Steve from doing something reckless, and he forces himself to walk away. He knows the conversation is far from over, and the guy is as good a lead as any, so by the time he reaches his truck, he already has half a plan for how to get the guy to lead him to his father’s missing partner. When he reaches his car, his eyes wander to the paper bag on the passenger seat. Several books on spiritualism, paranormal lore, even demonology, stare back at him, mocking. He picked them up on his way to HPD, feeling a little stupid as he did.

_Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been seeing things even science cannot explain._

He still hasn’t accepted the governor’s offer, but if Steve’s being honest, it has less to do with gauging if she's telling the truth or not, and more with the reluctance to believe his father's death has anything to do with something that can't quite pass for natural. The more Steve digs into the case, however, the more it’s turning to be the best option for him, if he really wants to get to the bottom of all this.

“McGarrett,” he barks into the phone, momentarily forgetting to check the caller ID.

_“Commander. It’s Duke.”_

Steve straightens, his free hand tightening on the steering wheel. “Duke. You got something?”

 _“Kind of. Spoke to the Captain a while ago.”_ There’s a pause, but before Steve can check if the call abruptly ended, Duke continues. _“They got someone new on your father’s case. Thought you ought to know.”_

They gotta be kidding. Someone new? The ones who handled the investigation from day one barely had anything, and now they’re just tossing the case around like it’s on fire?

“Someone new?”

_“Yeah. Literally new. A cop from New Jersey. Apparently his transfer just got approved, and he’s coming in this afternoon.”_

 

\----

 

One of the things about the human world Danny thinks he will never fully understand is driving. And cars.

Granted, the ability to flash step and phase in and out of walls are not extended to the mortal end of the spectrum, but he’s sure he will never be partial to strapping oneself to a piece of metal that’s hurtling 60 miles per hour. Chin himself prefers _bikes_ to cars, but here they are now, hunched over what is called a Chevrolet Camaro, waiting for Gracie to arrive. Since his friend expressly discouraged him from squatting outside the Edwards residence like a total creep, they opted to wait outside her school, in time to see her get dropped off by the black sedan Mr. Edwards always sends for her. Chin’s house is nearer, so they got there first, and they’ve spent the last twenty minutes in silence. Peaceful, perhaps, for Chin, but barely tolerable for Danny.

“Hey,” Chin starts, seemingly satisfied with what Danny knows is his attempt to drive him stir crazy. “I can get you a teaching position here, if you want. Could be good for you.”

Danny groans from his place in the passenger seat. They’ve been doing it since he asked Chin for the favor. His friend will suggest a different job each time, ticking off reasons as to how they would be a much better alternative than Danny’s idea to pose as a cop in the Honolulu Police Department while he recuperates.

“Seriously man. Just drop it, all right? I know you’ve already made the necessary arrangements. I don’t understand why you still insist on talking me out of it.”

Chin just shrugs. “I can still cancel them. Just say the word.”

Times like these, Danny needs to focus a little harder, if he wants to read through the veneer of zen and nonchalance Chin is exuding.

The moment Danny told his old friend about his plan to get his hands on everything there is to know about Steve McGarrett, Chin has subtly steered him towards the opposite direction. He knows Chin arranged for their rescue, and that he knows what went down that night, perhaps even better than Danny himself,  so refusing the chance to solve a puzzle this interesting is uncharacteristic for Chin Ho Kelly.

“I made up my mind, Chin. I’m going there after we’re done here.”

 _Here,_ is Academy of the Sacred Hearts, Gracie’s private school and Danny’s soon-to-be workplace if he doesn’t get Chin to open up about why he’s so worked up about McGarrett. It takes a couple more minutes before the familiar black car arrives, and out comes his little girl, adorable as always in her sky blue uniform and pigtails. He doesn’t notice his shift in behavior until he feels a gentle tap on his arm, and sees Chin giving him a sympathetic smile.

“You good?”

He finally sees that his right hand has curled into a fist from its place over the air vent.

“Sorry,” he mutters, feeling himself flush with shame. Being so close to his daughter, in a body that can actually _hold_ her after so many years, is sending him in a swirl of possibilities he thought he’s given up a long time ago.

Chin nods, and shifts his gaze away, but not before Danny can clock the brief flash of emotion in his eyes. He knows that look.

“Hey.” His friend doesn’t turn to him, but Danny sees the way he’s holding his breath, and knows he’s listening. “Don’t you think that guilt of yours is getting old? Especially when it’s misplaced and all.”

Chin tenses visibly, as do his hands on the steering wheel, but he keeps his eyes on the windshield. “You know it’s not.”

It’s pointless to persuade him against what looks to be the beginnings of a pity party, so Danny squares his shoulders in his seat and lets his eyes follow Grace as she disappears into the entrance door.

“All right,” he announces, stretching to grab the files he packed that morning from the back seat. “Let’s go.”

_Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett_

_US Navy SEAL - BUD/S Class 203_

Danny is familiar with most of human organizations, and has found one or two of them to almost be on par with Soul Society, in structure and sophistication. He understands the man is Special Forces and has an impressive skillset, if the stack of dossiers he wrangled out of Chin’s human charge Toast yesterday is to be believed. He briefly wonders just how much the military knows about his world, since McGarrett didn’t seem as fazed as Danny first expected him to be. He looked angry, yes, but also relieved.

“Do you know why he’s here in Hawaii?”

From what he understands, McGarrett hasn’t been on the islands for almost a two decades, so has his sister, Mary Ann.  He wonders how she is, now. Danny knows humans are not permitted to remember what they witnessed, but there’s no one hundred percent guarantee. Their memory wipe can't completely erase nightmares and trauma.

“His father was killed last week,” Chin tells him, voice tight.

“Oh.” It would explain the shadow in McGarrett’s eyes, and the sheer _terror_ he displayed at the possibility of losing his sister that night. “How?”

Danny has to wonder again as Chin’s breathing changes. “I’ve arranged for you to handle the case. You’ll know soon enough.”

As usual, Chin works fast, and Danny takes a moment to appreciate the connections the man has made in his years in the human world.

“Right. Thanks, man.” He continues to flip through Steve’s other mission files, growing more and more frustrated at the fact that a highly-trained military _prodigy_ is now in possession of massive amount of spiritual energy. “But hey, aren’t you a cop now? What do you know about his father’s case?”

It’s been a long time since he’s spoken to Chin, and Danny hasn’t seen him even when Grace moved to Hawaii two years ago, or when he was reassigned a year later. He hears news only through Kono, and he hopes the guilt in his statement was not too evident.

“I quit.”

Danny pauses his skimming through Operation Strawberry Field to raise an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

He remembers how happy Kono was, when she told him about it many years ago, when he still patrolled in Nevada. Danny knew law enforcement, in a way, is one of the closest things a human can get to a Soul Reaper, so he was happy for his friend.

They stopped on a red light when Chin turns to him. “Danny, are you really sure this is what you want?”

He hears it again, the desperation in Chin’s voice, and he feels himself snapping.

“What do you mean? Will you just _tell_ me what this is about?”

He holds Chin’s gaze for a long beat, and for the briefest of moments, Danny sees a younger Chin, almost a century ago, on his knees and begging for his forgiveness.

_I am so sorry, Danny. Please. I didn’t want this to happen, you have to believe me._

“You don’t have to be in HPD. In fact, keeping a low profile until you get your energy back is our best  option. We don’t know how long Kono’s story will hold, so we have to focus on that. You can stay in the shop, you can still see Grace every day.”

Danny wasn’t too happy when he realized that the ‘friendly’ Reaper they got to help with the Soul Burial of the little girl in the yellow dress turned out to be Chin’s cousin and his officer. Kono was informed about what happened, and is now holding the fort while Danny is unable to return. He wonders how much his Captain knows.

“You know I can’t do that,” he tells Chin. “Steve McGarrett is now walking around the streets of Oahu like a giant neon sign for all Hollows in the islands, and it’s my fault. Besides, Central 46 now thinks there’s  someone patrolling Hawaii. If they notice no one’s doing the jobs, they’re gonna know something’s wrong.”

They pass by a sign that tells them they’ve reached Waikiki, and Danny takes a deep breath. He’s spent the whole of last night preparing, despite the protests of Chin, Mal, Kamekona, _and_ Toast for him to rest. Danny hasn’t dealt with many humans in a faux body for so long, he fears he might not remember what it’s like anymore.

“There’s another option, you know.” Chin’s voice is so soft, Danny barely hears his next words. “It’ll be quicker, and you’ll be back right away.”

“Chin…”

“I know how to help you do it.”

“No.” Danny knows exactly what Chin is talking about, and yes, he thought about it. It’s the first option he thought about when he realized the gravity of what he’s done, but he dismissed the idea just as quickly. “Forcibly taking my energy from McGarrett will kill him.”

There’s a slight slump to Chin’s shoulders, something that looks like relief, but Danny knows he’s not done. Chin Ho won’t be Chin Ho if he can’t be the more rational between the both of them.

“If you do it to most humans, sure. But Danny, you said it yourself, he’s spiritual pressure is strong. He might be able to handle it.”

“I said no, Chin. End of discussion.”

Steve McGarrett just wanted to save his sister. Danny can’t punish him for that.

Chin knows that too, and there’s a part of Danny that’s worried about what else Chin might know. Something different happened that night, and something else is about to happen because of it.

“I’m in your corner a thousand percent. You know that, right?”

Danny nods and looks away, before he is overcome with gratitude and love for his old friend.

After turning another corner, they reach the headquarters of Honolulu Police Department. Danny is about to open the door on his side, when notices Chin is not doing the same thing.

“Ask for Captain Tanaka. He’ll tell you what to do.” Chin’s eyes are hard, as he looks at the building. “I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

 

  ----

 

Steve makes it three steps inside the bullpen before Officer Lee sees him and scampers away. It would’ve been a hilarious sight, if he isn’t almost at the end of his tether.

_There's almost nothing on him, Steve. For all intents and purposes, Chin Ho Kelly didn’t exist until ten years ago._

On his way back to HPD, Catherine called with an update. When Steve first heard his father’s partner before he retired was nowhere to be found since his death, he did his own background check. Kelly’s file had been pretty cut and dry, but something told him there was more to it. What Cath told him pretty much confirmed his suspicions. All of Kelly’s credentials had been tied to sealed files, even his supposed academy records. According to her contacts, those sealed files are blank at best, and gibberish at worst. Even though his high school records existed, no one in Kukui High School remembers any Chin Ho.

It’s beginning to look like a huge fabrication, and Steve knows in his guts that it has a connection to his father’s murder.

“Have you seen Duke?” he asks a random officer, who jumps at his question.

“Commander,” the officer responds after a beat, and Steve has to wonder just what the rest of the department knows about the Navy SEAL son of John McGarrett who has been at the headquarters every day since he returned, bullying everyone to give him details. He finds he doesn’t care at all. “He’s with the Captain.”

Steve lets her go after that, and proceeds to wait by his father’s desk. Duke is expecting him, anyway.

_I don’t have long, Champ. I’m sorry that I lied to you._

It’s been almost a week since Steve’s stepped off USAF C-17 Victory and back into Hawaiian soil. It’s been eighteen years since he’s been on the island, and ten since he last spoke with Mary, but ever since he landed, all Steve’s ever thought about was his father’s case. There’s a  deep-seated exhaustion gnawing at his bones, and he can’t remember the last time he walked and didn’t feel helplessness in his every footstep.

_How did you do that?_

He pushes the thought away, as quickly as it arrived.

What he needs to do is focus on the investigation. He’ll deal with what happened that night and Mary’s missing memories later.

“Commander.”

Steve looks up and sees Duke bounding down the stairs.

“Duke. I need to speak to the new cop assigned to the investigation, and to your Captain. If he doesn’t want to dedicate resources to actually find something _solid_ on my father’s case, fine. I’m more than happy to take over.”

Duke nods and gives him an apologetic smile. “I understand, Steve. Which is why I think you’re just in time.”

Steve watches him turn and look back to the stairs, and sure enough, another cop comes down. All at once, every sound in the bullpen dies when he sees the same blonde hair and grumpy face he’s been staring at from the paper tacked to his room.

 “…Newark PD. Name’s Detective Daniel Williams.”

He hears his own breath before he registers Duke’s words.

It’s Danny.


End file.
